


Let's Do the Time Warp Again

by Hikari_no_Chibi



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3614919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikari_no_Chibi/pseuds/Hikari_no_Chibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very introspective fic about one way the end of the Zelena arc could have gone differently, if it had been Belle who fell through the time portal instead of Hook and Emma.  Not a comedy or Rocky Horror parody, I just really like dorky titles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Do the Time Warp Again

She could hear nothing above the thrumming of her own heart, but knew to her marrow that there were far worse noises coming from the cells. Belle felt guilty joy at that. Whatever he had done (she knew but could not admit it yet), the behavioral nuances that defined her love were muffled, rendering the whole thing surreal. Like it was all happening on the television, or in a book, or in one of the nightmares she could never quite shake.

She remembered feeling a terrible chill in her spine, and on impulse followed Rumplestiltskin. Her passage through town was a blur; she had no idea how he hadn’t caught her, but perhaps he’d been as consumed by his own thoughts as she. When he reached the jail where Zelena was held, she remembered calling out to him. At a distance of several blocks, he hadn’t even heard her hoarse voice cry out, but that shouldn't have mattered. The dagger in her hand should have stopped him.

With trademark flourish, he took his leave, and Belle forced herself to move.

She didn’t even remember taking the dagger out.

Belle let the wretched thing clatter loudly to the floor, surprised that it didn’t shatter like the cheap imitation that it was. Then again, Rumple would have been the first to point out that a knife is still a knife. In his queer way, maybe he thought that would be enough to protect her. He wasn’t in the habit of lying when a half-truth would do in its place.

She felt dirty, used, and betrayed. She’d behaved abominably, acting the part of the suspicious mistress he’d only recently been liberated from. But she’d been right to, and that hurt most of all.

If she’d been wrong, she would have gone to him and apologized. If the dagger had been true, they could have sat down with Archie and worked through their troubles. Maybe it wasn’t too late: after what Zelena had done to him, she could think up half a dozen excuses for him without trying. But none of them changed the fact that he’d lied when he offered her that knife and asked her to marry him.

The word murder simply couldn’t fit into the shape of what he’d done tonight.

But the word husband didn’t fit, either. Nor did wife.

Where was that sweet, shy man who’d sacrificed himself to save them? Belle had to wonder how much of that was the Dark One and how much the defeated spinner he’d once been. A life without options and opportunities was no kind of life at all, and they both knew what that kind of powerlessness felt like.

They did that to the insane people in this world, she knew from experience; if found incompetent to care for yourself or a danger to others, you were turned over to a relative or the state for stewardship. It wasn’t technically illegal, what had happened to her cursed self, and no one seemed much interested in holding Regina accountable for the ways she’d abused that loophole. Regina had intended to punish her, but the story fabricated by the curse somehow made it all right… or at least right enough that the nurses and doctors who went along with it were still fit to work.

As for the Enchanted Forest, well… the Evil Queen tore out hearts and imprisoned people. The Duke of the Frontlands sent children to battle ogres, blind to the lasciviousness of his soldiers. It wasn’t monstrous, it was monarchy. The only real solution for someone like that was a more benevolent type of monarch, but Snow White and Prince Charming had been trying in _every_ sense of the word. In the end, it just hadn’t been enough.

Belle felt her knees shake, but knew she had to be strong. She couldn’t assume anything. If she was wrong, she’d go back to Rumplestiltskin and demand an explanation. Hell, she’d probably even apologize. But for now… Belle slipped further into the police station, finally close enough to view the cell. All that she found of Zelena was a pile of rubble and the gentle swill of dust.

“Oh, Rumple…” she sighed, and collapsed to her knees.

He’d killed tonight – a woman few would miss and none would mourn. Although Belle couldn’t muster much sorrow for Zelena, at that moment she felt perfectly sorry for Rumple and herself. Everything would be different now. Suddenly, her happy ending had turned to ashes, and all Belle wanted to do was curl up and make it go away.

She could have stopped this, if she’d been faster. Shouted louder. Behaved bravely instead of freezing in place.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I am. You were a truly awful person, but you didn’t…. Not like this, it’s not right.” Belle felt the tears slick on her cheek, mourning her own losses alongside this meaningless loss of life.

Rumple wouldn’t even feel better for doing it. He’d feel safer for a moment, perhaps, but not better. Revenge never truly made anything better, it always came with too steep a price.

She sniffled and wiped her eyes. She couldn’t just sit here and cry.

Belle pulled herself to her feet, cursing herself for being so weak. A small flash of green caught the corner of her eye.

“What the…?”

The smoke floated over the broken body of the wicked witch began to spread, creeping slowly through the jail until it erupted into a cloud. Belle stepped back, careful not to be touched by it, and suddenly everything was happening too fast again.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no. What the hell had Rumple done?

The green haze darted away from her, toward the door, and Belle had no choice. She pulled out her phone and dialed haphazardly, praying that Emma would pick up for a change.

She’d never hated her heels more, kicking them off as she grabbed a pair of keys and jumping into the police cruiser. The magic was moving quickly, but Lacey knew how to drive, and Belle let her cursed memories take over. Finally, she saw the barn where Zelena had been taken prisoner – it felt like ages, but she finally heard the tone for Emma’s voice mail as she slammed the parking break.

The barn glowed with magic, and a sudden wind stirred. Belle scrambled out of the stolen car and began to speak. “Emma, it’s Belle. Zelena’s dead. Rumple… Rumple killed her. I couldn’t stop him. The dagger… I’m sorry. But somehow, I think her magic is still working. Her portal is activating, this whole place is wild with magic and –“

And she was far, far too close, and it was far, far too late. Belle struggled to anchor herself to the patrol car, but the pull of the storm was overwhelming. A brilliant, orange light made it impossible to see straight. She wasn’t certain what was happening, but if Zelena’s spell worked as intended… A thought of Rumplestiltskin still enslaved flitted through her mind. Then she saw nothing.

Belle awoke to the smell of earth and sheep, but it was familiar, somehow. It reminded her of home, on the rare occasions when she would join her father in visiting their farms, or sneak into their cottages to spy. She hadn’t been a malevolent child, merely curious about the world and its inhabitants; hadn’t understood that they could no more banish their Lord’s daughter from their homes than she could banish the ogres from their lands. They had been simpler times.

She opened her eyes and winced at the moonlight.

“Are you the Rheul Gorm?” an awed voice whispered.

Belle willed her vision to focus, and saw a brown-haired boy, a little older than Henry. He wore a coarse, wool tunic, and she tried not to react. There was only one place where people dressed in such a manner. If Zelena’s spell had truly returned her to the Enchanted Forest, she’d have to find new clothes quickly.

“I’m Belle,” she said, settling for cautious honesty. “Were you expecting the Blue Fairy?”

The boy’s eyes turned sorrowful. “No, I guess not,” he sighed.

“She’s real, you know,” Belle told him. “So don’t give up hope.”

“You’ve met her?”

Belle nodded, and the boy’s entire demeanor changed, his enthusiasm rising with every syllable. “I was walking out here to ask the Rheul Gorm for a way to help my Papa, and then I saw… I don’t know, I guess it must have been a falling star, so I followed the light to this clearing, and here you are! She must have sent you! Do you know how to end a powerful, dark spell?”

“I do know one way. True Love’s Kiss will break any spell,” she confessed, head still spinning. Her heart broke at the memory of her own ill-fated Kiss, and all the time they’d lost as a result of it. Then she remembered where she was standing, and how she got there. They could be in real trouble very soon.

“Listen, er…”

“Baelfire,” the boy grinned.

Belle felt the air rush out of her. No, this could not be happening. Not tonight. Neal was dead, and Rumple…  Well, she needed to talk to Mr. Gold desperately.  Gold and Rumple. It was the only way she could think of to differentiate them.

She didn’t know much about Rumple’s life before the Dark One, except that he’d been tricked into a deal he didn’t understand, lost his son, and later killed his wife. He’d also loved Cora at some future point, and Belle hoped she wouldn’t have to live through that again.

He wouldn’t remember her – certainly wouldn’t be her True Love yet – and she was already in love with Gold. She loved a ruthless, manipulative man capable of great devotion and sacrifice despite his worst efforts, centuries removed from the person he was when his son was alive. She always said it was him – just him – that she wanted, and it was true; but the man she knew would have experienced so much more. Would it be possible to love this Rumplestiltskin? Could she really overlook what he was going to do to the people of this land, and to all of Storybrooke? The search for his son had changed him, and Belle very much feared that she was going to find out exactly how much.

“We need to get out of here,” Belle managed. Someone much, much worse than Cora could be on his way, and she didn’t know what to do. Could she help him? Should she try? And, most importantly, would she ever be able to return to Storybrooke and face him?

“It’s not safe to stay here.”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Baelfire answered. “The ogres don’t come here anymore. We’re safe.”

“No, you don’t understand. Baelfire, I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I can help your father…”

“Please, Belle, you’ve got to! He was a good man, once, and I know if we can just find his True Love –“

“It’s not that simple,” she said, trying to pull away. “He’s got to truly want to change, or even True Love’s Kiss won’t help.”

“He does!” Bae cheered, holding her hand tight in his. “He promised! He said if I can find a way to help him without hurting either of us, he’d do it. Don’t you see? This is perfect – you must be meant to help us, if the Rheul Gorm sent you. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Unless… are you…?”

“No! Baelfire, you must promise me that no matter what, you won’t tell your father that you’ve met me tonight.” She couldn’t unravel the possibilities just yet – Rumple had always been quickest at that – but she knew in her gut that here mere presence here could have already changed everything.

Baelfire was talking, trying to convince her that his Papa would be happy to hear about her; Belle knew differently. He’d be happy, but only because she reeked of magic and might make a good addition to his collection. Maybe if she convinced Rumplestiltskin that Bae was mistaken about her, she could….

The dagger! If he saw that, he wouldn’t hesitate to act. She’d be dead on sight, and then nobody would be able to help this sweet, brave boy.

Belle looked frantically at the ground around her feet. She must have dropped the counterfeit, but where? With any luck, it would still be in Storybrooke, well away from them. If there even still was a Storybrooke, or the potential for one (and wasn’t that a moral quagmire), finding that dagger would answer a multitude of questions for the Charmings.

“So you see,” Bae prattled on, “Even though he’s the Dark One, he didn’t used to be. We can save him – I know we can. And I… I’ll keep you safe.”

When he said that, he looked every inch the serious, sincere man she’d known. He looked like Neal Cassidy. “I was naïve before, but I promise: if you’ll help us, I’ll protect you. I won’t make another mistake.”

Her heart went out to him, and Belle’s better nature broke free of the panic building inside her.

“Sweetheart, what happened to your Papa, all the terrible things he does… it’s not your fault,” she whispered, reaching out to cup his cheek. “I know that he loves you very much, even if it’s hard to see sometimes. Of course I’ll help you if I can, but I really think—“

“Ooh,” trilled a jarring voice from the darkness. “Thinking will always get you in trouble, dearie. Best not to tempt fate.”

“Rumplestiltskin!” Belle gasped.

“You don’t need to be frightened,” the boy cautioned. “My Papa’s _not_ going to hurt you. Do you promise, Papa?”

“That remains to be seen,” the Dark One scoffed. He ran a long, black finger nail under her chin and lifted her face to his. He spun her around, inserting himself like a shield in front of Baelfire. “Before we decide what to do with our new friend, I want to know two things: who are you, and what do you want with my son?”

Belle fought to remain composed. This was not the man who’d hurt her so deeply only an hour ago. He hadn’t offered her a marriage built on a lie, and she hadn’t accepted him. She was nothing to this Rumple. Except he was – the same build, the same sneer, the same flourish– but though he’d adorned himself in fine robes, he bore little resemblance to the curled, flamboyant imp in exaggerated coat collars she’d known at the Dark Castle. Life had not rendered him quite so prickly yet.

“My name is Lacey,” she answered readily. And then: “Lacey French.”

Bae’s eyes went wide, but he got the message and kept quiet.

Names held power, yes, but it would be many, many decades before her parents were even born; besides, he would know if she lied to him. In the matter names, Rumplestiltskin always won. Would always win. He lacked the experience of the man she loved, and if she could remember that then she just might be able to manage this.

“I met Baelfire in the wood tonight,” she added when his sneer didn’t budge. “He mistook me for someone else. I meant him no harm.”

“Intent is meaningless,” he snapped. This petite, half-naked creature didn’t fear him and stank of dark magic. If she wanted to use his son to force his hand, she would be in for a nasty shock. There was only one way to control the Dark One, and everyone else who knew about _that_ was dead. Even that mute serving-wench.

She squared her shoulders and met his gaze with violently blue eyes, firm but trusting in a way that reminded him of his son.

“Intent is everything,” she intoned. It had to be.

Rumple gave her the false dagger with the intent of manipulating her. She’d used it with the intent of helping him. That had to matter. It had to. She still trusted that Gold would be waiting for her back in Storybrooke, poor choices and all, or what she intended to do next was going to make a tremendous mess of things.

“But I don’t _intend_ to stand around in the forest all night,” Belle quipped.

Rumplestilskin laughed – his throaty, human laugh. She couldn’t help but see Gold reflected in the imp. Perhaps he wasn’t so terribly changed. She’d always suspected, but it was good to see the truth with her own eyes, instead of reading about it in Henry’s book, for a change.

“She can come back to our house for the night, can’t she Papa?” asked Bae. “She’s going to help us break your curse.”

“Is she indeed? And how, I ask, may that be? There’s only one way to defeat me, dearie, and I assure you: it’s not pretty.”

“True Love’s Kiss,” said the boy before Belle could stop him. “Isn’t that right, B… Lacey?”

Suddenly the masque and manner of the Dark One faded, and Belle found herself face to face with a loving father again.

“Son,” Rumple murmured. “I’m sorry, but your Mum is… she’s not with us anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t love again,” the boy pleaded. “It doesn’t mean we can’t try. Lacey is going to help us.”

“Oh, Bae…” He stiffened, as though he’d only just remembered she was still standing with them. “Be on your way, wench. I’m feeling merciful tonight.”

Belle nodded and turned to leave.

“No! You can’t go!”

Bae flung himself into her arms, and Belle held him tight, watching as Rumplestiltskin stared helplessly at his precious boy. She hadn’t appreciated just how desperately this lad, a tad shy of fifteen, had loved and craved his father. Neal was so distant and cool, even with Emma, and Belle hated that it happened to him. It would happen again. She didn’t know another way, and she couldn’t behave as though the people back in Storybrooke didn’t matter.

The way – the only way – that made sense was for her to change as little as possible and try to get back to her starting place. What were the options? Magic beans… difficult, but not impossible. Ruby slippers… no, Oz was worlds away, and by the time the shoes got there, Zelena would be after them. Jefferson’s hat… no, that wouldn’t be around yet. A mermaid portal? But they moved through realms, not time, and there was no magic in Storybrooke yet. Besides, the only mermaid she knew was Ariel. If they could reactivate the time portal… but no, leaving this Rumple in possession of magic like that was asking for trouble.

He would get much worse before he got better. If he got better. Gold and she were going to have a flaming row when she got home, but for now she’d be missing from Storybrooke, to times unknown. He’d trust her to do the right thing, and if that meant letting Bae go…

But he’d never once trusted her, had he? No, Belle realized, as Rumple took his son by the hand and led the three of them – wordlessly – back to his home. He had trusted her. He’d trusted that she would never to use that dagger, that he wouldn’t be caught, and that no one would notice his subterfuge.

Even when Belle refused to take it, he kept pushing, secure in the knowledge that she’d never test it simply for the sake of making her power known. Well that had lasted all of two hours. Belle knew what she’d done was wrong, that catching him in the act didn’t make it right. But it helped.

She’d thought – stupidly – that, perhaps, he genuinely wanted her to stop him when he was in danger of losing control. That he genuinely wanted to stop hurting people, and make his past misdeeds right. Was she wrong to take him at his word? Would she be wrong to try to help save him and his son now?

Yes. Oh yes. That had become painfully obvious tonight. She’d allowed herself to sneak and rationalize, and maybe they were better suited for one another than anyone realized, because it hadn’t felt at all wrong in the moment. No, it felt quite right.

And it had been so easy, simple as clasping fingers and letting suspicion overrule love. She’d had her own share of shame, and it led to poor Anna being captured and her memories of her mother being lost. If she could have ensured that someone stopped her from making a choice she would regret, wouldn’t she want that?

Belle knew in her heart that she would not.

And, as Rumplestiltskin settled her into a small cot in his kitchen, with a warning not to touch anything, she knew one other thing: if the price of not doing everything in her power to help him was watching Gold kill without ordering him to stop; was letting Bae slip through his father’s fingers with no safe way to reunite them; was abandoning Regina to rip out her own father’s heart… then that price was too much.

*

Three weeks of cohabitation, and Rumplestiltskin still hadn’t so much as sent her a warm smile. Her years of confinement in the Dark Castle had accustomed her to Rumple’s furtive flirtations, but in this time he only cared for his son and scarcely tolerated her presence.

She wasn’t jealous, far from it. It was somehow heartening to know that Gold possessed that same devotion, though it edged on madness. He protected Baelfire from everything, save himself, and the boy was growing restless with the time it was taking to get his father back.

“We need to find a True Love for you, Papa,” Bae pleaded over the dinner table.

Rumplestiltskin treated Lacey like his maid, a role which Belle easily fell into. Unfortunately, her cooking hadn’t improved much in the 30-odd years she’d spent in a dungeon. Their supper was stew, aromatic but under-seasoned, and Rumple was ignoring Bae in favor of glaring at Lacey.

“And what makes you think that this useless woman knows the first thing about curse breaking?” he quipped. “The carrots have clearly outwitted her. So have the peas.”

"I'm sure it will work.  If you're so certain that there's not a woman out there for you, just try giving Bae a kiss on his forehead. If you're ready to let go, and if you truly love each other as I know you do, then it will work."

They both laughed at that.  Apparently the Enchanted Forest wasn't ready for a father-and-son to share True Love this far in the past.  Belle kept trying, though.  

Finally, it was Baelfire who convinced her to stop.  Rumple wasn't ready, and neither was she.  The best she could do was keep the peace and maybe give him a few more precious memories before the timeline could adjust.

“We made a deal. At least try to find someone,” the boy blushed, when next they brought it up. Belle had seen enough of him around his friend, Morraine, to know that Baelfire had inherited none of his father’s timid affection. “Or you could try practicing on Lacey.   She said she doesn’t mind!”

Rumplestiltskin choked.

“It’s true,” Belle teased. “I don’t mind at all.” Maybe he wasn’t totally immune to her in this time, but it didn't change her feelings.

*

After three months, Baelfire had all but given up on getting his father a Kiss. The Widow Cartwright was frightened of him; Miss Smith nearly fainted. And still, no matter what she tried, Belle couldn’t make Rumplestiltskin love her.

It was her fault. She still hadn’t been able to wholly forgive Gold for what he’d done, both to her and Zelena. How was she supposed to fall in love all over again when in her heart she wasn’t sure what the future would hold for them? With a man who was crueler and less controlled than her cautious, clever monster?

Maybe the loss of her innocence and blind faith in Rumple to make good choices was the final death-knell for them; maybe Rumplestiltskin needed simple, uncomplicated love from someone who didn’t mind being burned time and again.   Maybe she wasn’t that girl any more.

Maybe she should stop thinking about hypotheticals and try talking to him. Gold’s lies were truly what had hurt her, but had she done any better? In three months, she never admitted where she’d come from to either son or father. She could tell them. They might understand.

Maybe she should just cross the room and kiss _him_.

Belle wished she knew what Cora had done to grab his attention before the years and loneliness had driven him to seek a Lady-Maid for his rather large estate, but somehow Belle didn’t think she would like the answer.

“Rumplestiltskin,” she tried one night, after Baelfire went to bed. “About your wife, is she… Is she really…”

His eyes narrowed to pin points. “I don’t know what you’re implying, dearie, but Baelfire’s mother is gone.”

“So she’s gone forever?” Belle clarified. “She’s not coming back?”

“No,” Rumplestiltskin snarled. “And it’s not my fault, so stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you expect me to pull the poor woman out of a hat! She wasn’t much of a mother, even when she was alive…” he muttered.

“Still, that’s an odd thing to say,” Belle observed, pushing her luck. If she couldn’t inspire him to love, then maybe she could bring out a different feeling in him. “Not your fault… why would it be?”

“Let’s just say that I am not an easy man to love.” Rumple abruptly stood up. “And now, wench, I’m off for the evening. Don’t, ah—“

“Don’t touch anything?” Belle supplied.

“Precisely!”

When Rumplestiltskin vanished, Belle slumped into her seat. She still didn’t have an immediate lead on any magic beans – apart from the one the Blue Fairy had – and she wasn’t going to get mixed up with that. Until she found a way back to Storybrooke, she was making it her mission to give Rumplestiltskin as much extra time with his son as she could.

She couldn’t save everyone. Either Henry would be born or he wouldn’t; she hoped he would, to a loving father and a mother who would never give him up.

All she’d been able to glean about time travel from the very limited library Rumple had at the moment was that it helped to think of everything as happening in sequence. Somewhere in another realm, a few centuries in the future, she was sitting in a padded cell. But it wasn’t the future any more, not technically; she had to treat it like her past (which it was) and look for a way to close the loop Zelena’s portal opened.

If she could just get back to Storybrooke without leaving an unexplained gap in history, she’d be doing okay. Theoretically.

Why was there never someone who knew about paradoxes and recreating complex magic when you needed them? Gold would have known what to do, but Rumple hadn’t even recognized her arrival for anything other than a transportation spell gone awry. All she could do was her best; there was no way of knowing what her actions would accomplish, but if she didn’t try, then she would be truly lost.

Of the Magic Beans she knew about, none were within reach. The Blue Fairy had one, but if she asked for it there was every chance that history would repeat and Rumple would let his son slip away. Hook and Smee – Jones, in this time – would have one in a small port, about 2 years from now. But if she asked to go there, Rumple would almost certainly kill his ex-wife and set off the chain reaction that culminated in Hook hunting him across the centuries. That left Anton, alone on his bean stalk, but the maps she’d found couldn’t even approximate where the last of the bean stalks were seen… And how would Emma get home when she fell through the hat?

The obvious answer was that she had to leave and go on an adventure to find something else, but that would be tantamount to abandoning Baelfire to his fate. She couldn’t do that.

Outside the cottage, she heard a twig snap.

“Is somebody there?” Belle called. “Rumplestiltskin?”

“It’s just me,” whispered Bae, easing himself into a window.

“You frightened me!” Belle chided. “What in the world were you doing out there? Should I be worried about Morraine’s father coming to speak to me?”

“Gross!” he hissed, a little too quickly. “No, I… Well, I went back to the clearing. You know, where I found you. Is Papa home?”

“He just went out. Why on earth did you go back there?” But she feared she already knew.

Baelfire gave her a lop-sided grin that looked more and more like his father’s with every passing day. “I called up on the Rhuel Gorm – the real one this time – and I asked her who Papa’s True Love would be.”

“What did she say?” asked Belle, genuinely curious to see if the answer had changed.

“Sorry, Belle,” Bae winced. “She says it’s not possible for the Dark One to have a True Love. But she says it would have worked on anyone else,” he added, as though that would make it better.

It was all Belle could do not to huff. That damn Mother Superior needed to open her mind and learn a thing or two about love. She liked Faeries, in general, and many of the Storybrooke Nuns, specifically, but when Bae said what he said next, Belle knew that some things – some events in time – were just not that malleable.

He took out the bean and explained the Land Without Magic to her, hailing it the solution to all their troubles. If there was no magic, his Papa couldn’t hurt anybody. Belle tried not to let herself be bitter. _A knife was still a knife, after all_.

“Baelfire, listen, about the Land Without Magic…” Belle began, her thoughts forming a fraction too slowly.

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” she smiled. “Nothing. But do you mind if I come with you? You know I’ve been attempting to return to my own world.”

“Of course, but aren’t you worried that you won’t be able to get home again?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, your world has magic. I remember all those stories you told me about the Evil Mayor and the Prince Deputy. Aren’t you worried that you won’t be able to get back if you go someplace without any magic?”

“That’s okay, Bae. I’d rather make sure that you and your father are safe,” she told him. “But we should talk to him about this, make sure he’s really ready to leave.”

“Of course he’ll be ready,” Bae laughed. “We made a deal – he’d never go back on it.”

*

“You’re sure about this son?” Rumplestiltskin said anxiously. He’d been pacing the clearing for the better part of an hour.

“Yes, Papa. Come on. Even Lacey wants to go.”

Belle nodded and hoisted her rucksack once more. Between Rumple, already more reliant on magic than common sense, and Baelfire, who was still so much a child, she was the only one who’d bothered to pack. Clothes, gold, medicines, mementos… Just thinking of Gold leaving behind his most valued possessions made her want to cry. The man kept everything, his clutter and chaos mitigated by the fact that he knew every piece, property, and placement by memory.

This Rumple, as he was today, had no intention of going anywhere.

It was her only chance. Either she’d convince him to really, truly change history in a way that mattered, or history was going to repeat here tonight. In either case, she didn’t know where she’d land – but was hopeful it would be on her feet.

“I don’t know son, it’s…”

“Rumplestiltskin, can I talk to you?” Belle interrupted.

He raced to her side, thankful for the delay, and Belle’s heart broke for him. He even offered her a shy smile, and Belle wondered how she hadn’t seen it before today. He loved her – he could love her, if she would step out from the shadow of Gold and see him without the taint of future mistakes.

It wasn’t about Power and Love, she realized in that moment. Love and Power were not incompatible. Rumple sought power because he loved his son, and he found it; he accumulated more to reunite the two of them, also out of love, and he succeeded; he’d cast her out for Control. To keep from losing the part of himself he relied on to stay the course. Power and Control were the problem.

When Zelena stripped his control, when Neal died and Gold was still powerless to defy her, he’d lost himself. In this anxious, uncertain Rumplestiltskin, on the precipice of the biggest regret of his life, she recognized more of her Rumple in him for the first time.

And she understood.

She couldn’t condone what Gold did to Zelena; not the way he’d manipulated her with his dagger, or the way he schemed and lied…. But she understood that the way he’d be in ten minutes, was so very, very similar. Finding Baelfire had cost countless lives. She couldn’t condone that, either, but it was done. If Zelena was the only casualty of her own machinations, then that was – by comparison – a measured response.

She could be back in Storybrooke with him any moment now. There would be consequences, but none they couldn’t overcome. She’d always wondered why he’d dealt for her, and wondered if the Princess Belle would remind him of Lacey. If Lacey could, without changing the pattern or history, leave her own small imprint upon it.

Rumple’s eyes pleaded with her to stop his son, to find any excuse for him to keep his power. Belle thought about it. She kissed him.

“What… what’s that?” he murmured. A flicker of light played across his skin, but nothing changed.

“I thought… never mind,” Belle blushed. “I thought we might all get our happy ending after all, but I guess it’s not time yet.”

“There’s always time,” said Rumple, pulling her close to him. “These months with you in the cottage have been the happiest Bae and I have ever known. He wanted to leave me, Belle. He ran away and left me alone. But you… you knew what we needed, somehow.”

“True Love’s Kiss?”

He chuckled. “No, not that. Just someone to help him understand… and to help me be better too. I have tried, you know. Don’t make me go.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks in earnest now. “I know,” she whispered, kissing him again. “But, Rumple, you can’t stay here. If my presence prolonged things, well… then I’m glad for you. But this is important for your son, and if you don’t go with him, you’ll regret it. Forever. You have to go.”

“I’m afraid,” he breathed so quietly she almost didn’t hear it.

“It’s going to be okay.” Belle took his hand and they walked over to Bae, who’d been doing his best to give them a bit of privacy. “Rumplestiltskin, I promise, if you go through that portal, everything will be fine. Are you ready, Bae?”

He nodded and tossed the bean to open a swirling, green vortex on the damp earth. Each holding one of Rumple’s hands, Bae and Belle took a quick step into the portal, and Belle almost believed that they’d get away with it. But the Dark One wasn’t done with Rumplestiltskin yet.

Rumple planted his feet, the magic allowing him a terrible strength, and Belle slipped through the portal alone.

*

“What the hell?” Emma swore, looking up at the familiar magic working its way through the air. A body plummeted out of it.

“Belle!?” The blonde Sherriff dragged the petite librarian toward the barn door.

“Why isn’t it closing?” shouted Mary Margaret over the magical storm.

“Baelfire!” Belle called, dragging herself back toward the portal. Emma held her back.

“Do you mean Neal?” she demanded.

Belle nodded. “He must still be on the other side, Rumple must still be holding onto him.”

“What? Nobody’s seen Gold in hours,” snarled Emma.

“Baelfire!” the brunette woman screamed, struggling to get closer. But Emma held firm.

“He’s dead, Belle.   He’s dead. Neal is gone.”

“No, he’s—“ but just as abruptly as it had opened, the portal closed. Belle wept.

*

“So you’re telling me that you went back in time and didn’t change anything?” Emma confirmed, her police notebook awash with notes and circles interconnected by lines. “That doesn’t sound possible.”

“Some things changed, probably,” Belle repeated for the fifth time. “But nothing big. Nothing you’d notice after three centuries.”

“And Neal?”

“I thought I’d be able to bring him back with me. Or that I could go with him, to keep him safe. I didn’t realize a magic bean could take you to two different places, but I suppose he’s ended up in Neverland jus the same,” said Belle.

“I think he might have made a pit-stop along the way,” said Emma, checking off the known facts in their two versions of history. “But that seems to be the end result, yeah.”

“Is Zelena still dead?”

“Of course,” Emma nodded. “Otherwise we’d a whole other paradox to sort out.”

“Do you mind if I ask how she… “

“You want to know if Gold did it,” Emma ascertained. “Well the short answer is: we can’t prove it. The tape looks like she killed herself, and the leftover magic flowed out of her amulet. You show up a few minutes later and chase it, but I’ve yet to see this second dagger you’ve been talking about. As far as I know, nobody’s found anything like that.”

“It could have been tampered with,” Regina offered. “Or the past could have changed slightly.   Really, there’s no way to know. There’s so much magic clinging to that room that any sort of forensic spell we could use would probably just explode.”

Belle rose to her feet, numb. “Well then, I think I should go home and see if I can find Rumple.”

“Hey, I still have a lot of questions here—“

“I think not, Miss Swan,” said Gold, strolling through the front door of the police station like he owned it. In fact, he might.

“Belle, sweetheart, if you’re done answering questions, let’s go home.” He offered her his arm.

“We need to talk,” she told him the second they were out of earshot.

“Yes.”

“Did you kill Zelena?” she asked, point blank.

“Will you believe me if I say no?”

Belle grunted noncommittally. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about that, actually. If you did it, it was wrong, and we’re going to get therapy.”

“Fair enough,” Gold nodded. “Did you know what would happen when you fell through that portal?”

“What, Zelena’s? No, I—“

“I mean the other one.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe it would all work out, and we’d go somewhere safe together. Or that maybe I’d be able to bring your son back with me, that somehow the paradoxes would work themselves out.”

“Oh, they do. Eventually. But that would have been a very, very big paradox,” Gold ceded. “You could have told me who and what you were, you know. I was totally smitten with you from the moment I saw the way you cared for my son.”

“You never showed it.”

“You were mourning,” he replied, as though it were a foregone conclusion. “The smell of desperation was all around you. It was all I could do to stay away, and not make things worse. Would you have been able to love the man I was?”

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” she promised. “If I’d been a few months earlier, before you were cursed, well… who knows how it would have gone. But after you were cursed, after my Gold proposed to me with that fake dagger… Where’s the dagger you used to propose, Rumple?”

He shook his head. “That never happened in this version.”

She stiffened. “I think you’re lying to me.”

“Would it help if I offered you my dagger to test me?” he replied casually, as though her answer didn’t matter to him. She could tell he was nervous.

Belle thought about it. “No,” she decided. “No, it wouldn’t. I’ve forgiven you, you know. I had a good long time to think about it. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for my part in all this. But it’s going to be very difficult for me to trust you again. Will you agree to come and talk to Dr. Hopper with me?”

“With you?” he parroted, pressing a chaste hiss to her temple. “With you, I can do anything.”


End file.
